Dan’s head bobbed thoughtfully.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said.
Matt looked up and grinned.
“Looks like that old arcade game is available,” Matt said.
Dan grinned.
“Would you ladies mind?” Matt asked.
“Not at all,” Linda Sue said.
Maggie eyed Dan.
“Go ahead, just be sure to get back when they bring the pizzas,” she said with a light-hearted laugh.
Matt gave Linda Sue a quick kiss and bolted for the ancient arcade baseball game that had been a fixture in the eatery since 1986.
Dan squeezed Maggie’s hand and she winked at him before he too made a dash for the machine. Matt was already feeding quarters into it when he got there.
“Sometimes I think they’re still little boys,” Maggie said.
“They’re men - same thing,” Linda Sue giggled.
“Too true,” Maggie agreed.
“It’s really none of my business, but do you mind if I ask you a question?” Linda Sue asked.
“No, go ahead,” Maggie responded.
“How long have you and Dan been...in love? I know it didn’t just happen,” Linda Sue said.
Maggie stared at her for a couple of seconds as though she were sizing her up.
“What makes you think we’re in love?” She asked innocently.
Linda Sue smiled.
“Are you going to tell me you’re not?” She asked.
Maggie smiled slowly.
“No, we are. I’m just curious as to how you knew. You’re the second person in two days to say that we’re in love. How did you know?” she asked.
“The way you look at each other, the way he hangs on every word you say, the way you do the same, the way you’re both so eager to make each other happy. It’s plain to anyone willing to look. So, how long for you two?” Linda Sue asked with a grin.
“It’s actually hard to say. Sometimes I think maybe I’ve loved him all of my life. We were all at picnic at a park in Lexington when we were ten. Danny and I managed to sneak away from everyone else and hide behind some trees and bushes. We were laughing about how funny it was that we were about to sneak away from Matt. When we stopped laughing, Danny leaned over and kissed me. He said he loved me and one day he would ask me to marry him. So I kissed him and told him that whenever he asked the answer was yes. And over the years, we just got to see each sporadically but thanks to the internet we talked – a lot,” Maggie said as she twirled the straw in her drink.
“Didn’t you two date other people?” Linda Sue asked.
Maggie nodded.
“After we started high school we agreed that we would date other people and that a marriage proposal between 10 year olds probably wasn’t legally or morally binding,” she said with a laugh. Then her expression turned a little more serious. “He never knew it, but I cried every day for a month, thinking I’d lost him forever,” she said.
“Matt told me once that Dan didn’t really date much because he got his heart broke while he was in high school and never got over it. I wonder if maybe he went through the same thing,” Linda Sue mused.
Maggie mulled her words. “I...I wonder. But we still managed to stay in touch on a semi-regular basis and when my dad passed away, he was there at my side. After that, kept in touch with phone calls and social media. The trip came out of the blue and I didn’t really know what to expect when we saw each other. But I guess neither of us really gave up on the idea of being together,” she said.
“Wow. It sounds like something that was just meant to be,” Linda Sue said.
“So how did you and Matt meet?” Maggie asked.
“We had a history class together. One day after class he asked me out. I enjoyed myself on the first date and agreed to a second. By the third date, we both knew we had something special,” Linda Sue said.
“It’s amazing how different and how much alike they can be,” Maggie said.
“I know. They don’t look alike. They have different personalities. But they’re both kind, considerate, sweet, and hard working,” Linda Sue said.
“They both have Uncle Jett’s work ethic and a sense of humor that came from both parents, that’s for sure. But they have...I don’t know how to describe it...a deep sense of compassion. That came from Aunt Rose,” Maggie said.
“What was she like?” Linda Sue asked.
“Matt reminds me a lot of her. She was friendly and outgoing. There was warmth about her that I can’t really describe. She was fun. Aunt Rose just had the ability to make you smile, to make you feel better. She was my mom’s college roommate. Mom said Aunt Rose was always that way. She said that Uncle Jett was shy and introverted until he met Aunt Rose,” Maggie said.
“That sounds like Dan,” Linda Sue said.
“Yes it does. But I can’t imagine Uncle Jett being anything like that now,” Maggie said.
“No, not at all. I can easily see him being many things but shy isn’t one of them. But you know, you could tell he still loves Matt’s mom even if he had not of said so. Just the way his face and eyes light up when he mentions her name,” Linda Sue said.
“Aunt Rose was special. She earned a masters in child psychology at UK while the guys were toddlers. She was just so easy to love. Aunt Rose used to tell me I was the daughter she never had. I still miss her and I know the guys do. I can relate to how they feel,” Maggie said.
“Until I met Matt, I don’t think I appreciated how blessed I am to have two parents,” Linda Sue said.
“Losing a parent turns your world upside down. They were fortunate to have a wonderful father to finish raising them and I was just as lucky to have a mom who has always been there for me - especially since dad died,” Maggie said.
“I think maybe the three of you are stronger people because of the tragedy you’ve had to suffer. I’m not sure I could handle it. I can’t imagine having to move on without either one of my parents,” Linda Sue said.
Maggie displayed a faint smile.
“I’m not sure anyone moves on. I think everything else keeps going and just pulls you along with it – kicking and screaming if necessary,” she said.
***
Bud carried his tobacco pouch with him as he sat on the front porch. The sunny sky was eerily reminiscent of his dream just a night before. He carefully scanned the scenery from his rocker, from the left to the right. Somehow, he wouldn’t have been shocked to see J.D. strolling up the sidewalk.
In the past 48 hours his life had taken a strange turn. Just a couple days ago, he thought the conversations he had with Rose and J.D. would have impossible. Now, not only did he know better, he couldn’t wait until he got to talk to both of them again.
Bud’s mind spun with questions. His journalistic instincts were stoked. This could be the biggest story of his life – not that anyone would believe it; at least not yet. So many questions. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so excited to get answers.
Mallorie made her way outside. She wore a fashionable pink ladies golf pullover with navy shorts. Unlike the day before, she wore a bra, he noted with a twinge of disappointment. Bud noticed she was barefooted. The sunlight made the pink polish on her toes sparkle as did the silver toe ring on her left foot.
Seeing her reminded him of his forced inactivity for the now more than 24 hours. As much as his professional curiosity was stimulated, another fire now stirred inside.
She was carrying a glass of iced tea.
“I made it unsweetened if you want a glass,” she said as sat down next to him.
Bud opened his tobacco pouch.
“Maybe in a little while,” he said, reflecting for a moment. “You know I never did say thank you for all you’ve done for me in the past couple of days. You really did save my life; and of course for all of the other fine care you’ve given.”
Mallorie tilted her head.
“You’re very welcome. Maybe you can thank me in a more...tangible way la
ter, with some fine care of your own – that is if you’re...up for it,” she said with raised eyebrows and a crooked grin.
“I believe I can accommodate you, after all, I can sleep late in the morning,” Bud said as the thought went through his mind that Mallorie might be the ideal woman.
“You can sleep late in the morning. I still have to be there at eight,” Mallorie said.
Bud filled his jaw with a wad of the shredded brown leaves.
“You know, that’s a disgusting habit,” she said.
Bud gave her a blank stare for a few seconds.
“Yes it is. What’s your point?” He asked.
“No point, just stating the obvious,” Mallorie said.
Bud grunted, rocked forward, and spat across the porch rail.
“There is something I’d like to talk to you about. I don’t mind staying over on the weekends or really any night you want me here - in fact, I like it. I don’t even mind the nosey people in this town knowing that I’m staying here. I’m not asking you for any kind of commitment and I don’t want to move in - not on a full time basis anyway,” she said as Bud listened intently.
“The only thing I’m asking is that while we’re...doing whatever this is that you not see anyone but me. And I won’t see anyone but you. Does that work for you, or do I need to find another old guy with disgusting habits to entertain me?” Mallorie asked.
Bud shook his head.
“No, I’d call that more than reasonable – and acceptable,” he said.
“As long as we understand each other,” she said.
This is indeed the ideal woman, Bud thought.
“We do my dear, we do,” he said as leaned forward and spat again.
“I’m curious. Have you really been with as many women as people claim?” Mallorie asked.
Bud worked the tobacco in his and thought before he answered.
“I’ve been with my fair share over the years but a reputation takes on a life of its own after a while. Keep in mind; I’ve been married three times. I never cheated on any of them, regardless of the rumors. I suspected Sherri, my second wife, of having an affair but I couldn’t prove it. That’s how I got stuck with my second round of damn alimony,” he said.
“What ended the other two marriages?” Mallorie asked.
“Irreconcilable differences — we just got to where we couldn’t stand each other,” Bud said.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Running a newspaper is not a 9-5 job, as you are learning. Odd hours and days. It means missing birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries from time to time. They couldn’t understand the paper was my life. I couldn’t understand how they couldn’t see that. And in those days, I had a tendency to drink – a lot. That didn’t help either, especially since Tricia, my third wife, drank more than I did. She could drink Jim Beam like water,” he said, rocked forward, and spat again.
Mallorie just listened as Bud continued to talk.
“My first wife, Lisa, was just a mistake. We were both young. We started dating before I got drafted. When I got back from Vietnam, we got married and I enrolled in college.
“The first couple of years were nice but the closer I got to graduation, the more problems started. She was working on her masters in sociology and becoming more and more politically active – anti-war protests and whatnot. I was just a guy trying to get a college degree on the G.I. Bill. We separated about a year after I graduated and divorced two years later. The funny thing is I was still in love with her. Lisa was a great girl but wasn’t cut out to be a newspaperman’s wife. She eventually remarried. I heard she left her second husband and became a lesbian later in life and moved to North Carolina,” Bud said.
“No kidding?” Mallorie asked.
“As much as I’d like to believe that, I don’t know if it’s true – it’s some gossip that passed my way at an alumni meeting a couple of years ago,” he said.
Mallorie laughed. “You’d like to believe that?”
“Yes I would. I’d like to think I spoiled her for other men,” Bud said.
“So after no man compared to you, she tried women,” Mallorie said.
He leaned forward and spit again.
“Well...yeah,” Bud said.
“You do not lack self-confidence,” she said.
“I’m too old to start believing in – or practicing – false modesty,” he said.
“You don’t drink much anymore, do you?” Mallorie asked.
“No. Diabetes helped put an end to that. Oh, I’ll still enjoy a shot or a beer now and then, but as you so recently discovered my little illness can have unforeseen and unwelcome consequences,” Bud said.
“Did you start drinking in Vietnam?” She asked.
“I just drank beer there. I didn’t want to let my buddy Chuck Fullbright down. I did try pot once. The first time I pulled guard duty I was given an empty rifle and a joint. I slumped behind a latrine and smoked it. Didn’t much care for it to be honest. Of course, being scared shitless and carrying an unloaded weapon probably impacted the marijuana experience,” he said.
“I can understand that,” Mallorie said.
“I started drinking the hard stuff when my marriage to Lisa started falling apart. I was in real danger of throwing it all away. If it wasn’t for my sister Katie and her husband Dan, I might have.
They took me in and helped me through a very rough patch. They had two daughters – Violet and Rose – who became very special to me. I came to love them like my own children. And it’s a good thing, because I never had any. Dan, the kid that was here last night, is Rose’s son,” Bud said.
“Jett’s late wife,” Mallorie said.
“You know, I’ve had a lot of people ask me over the years if I regret not having children. The way I see it, I had two wonderful daughters and a great son. And because of them, I have twin grandsons. I don’t regret a damn thing...other than knowing for sure my first wife actually later became a lesbian,” he said.
“You act like that’s something you’d like to see,” Mallorie said.
Bud cleared his throat.
“To tell the truth, I -” he was interrupted by Mallorie.
“Who’s that?” She asked as a good looking, slender woman with shoulder length blonde hair strode up the walkway to the front porch.
“Alicia!” Bud said.
***
Jett found himself in the morgue – or achieves room – at the newspaper. Being Sunday, the building was deserted and he was happy he would not be disturbed – at least by other people.
Jett started to use the computer in there but remembered he did not yet know the password for the one located in that room. He then walked down the hall to his office.
As he walked, he noticed the plaques and certificates from the Kentucky Press Association that lined the walls. He felt no small amount of pride in knowing that he was responsible for a number of those plaques.
He sat down at his desk and turned the computer on. As he waited for it to boot it, he looked around the office. Just as in the hall, the walls were lined with KPA and regional press association awards. Many of those came from his time in Lexington. There were also pictures – a black and white photo of him and Rose in the newsroom not long after he started working at the News Democrat. She sat on his desk as he banged away on a typewriter. Ed had taken the picture. There was a nice color shot of him and J.D. in full football uniforms, at the start of their senior year. And a great color shot of Bud standing between he and Rose on their wedding day.
Not many people knew it, but Bud insisted on footing the bill for the wedding himself.
Other pictures – from his career in Lexington – were on display as well.
There were photos of him interviewing Bill and Hillary Clinton, George W. Bush, Albert Gore, Jr., Jack Kemp, and every governor of Kentucky from 1987 until the present as well as myriad of elected officials and candidates from around the Commonwealth.
There was also a photo of him with the boys on
senior night in one of their final high school games and a family portrait with him, Rose, and the boys. He guessed their age to be about five.
His favorite sat on the desk. It was a picture of Rose sitting cross-legged in the floor in front of the Christmas tree, with Dan on her right and Matt on her left as they stared at the wrapped gifts in front of them.
Jett smiled every time he saw it. Rose never looked happier than she did in that moment.
He checked the screen and accessed the massive achieve file. Since he was using the editor’s computer, he needed no password. Jett gave Bud credit for staying ahead of the curve. Though it cost a nice chunk of change, the archives of the News-Democrat had all been preserved digitally. They still had a microfilm machine in the morgue, but a quick computer search eliminated so much guesswork.
He typed in “Laurel Lake,” “boating accident,” and “Lee.” After searching for a few seconds several articles popped up. “Boating accident claims life of Knox County man,” read the headline about halfway down the screen.
“Lee Clark, 23, of Corbin was killed when his jet ski collided with a pontoon driven by Kevin Stenson, 53, of Loyall, Ky.,” the article read.
Jett skipped past the details and searched the obituaries for the week following the accident. Sure enough, in the obit for Lee Christopher Clark was his fiancée Marie Atkins. Jett checked the date – July 7, 1982.
Why he was shocked, he didn’t know.
He then entered a search for Marie Atkins. In a matter of seconds, Jett saw the headline: “No foul play suspected in death of mayor’s daughter.”
He clicked on the story - written by Bud Rivers.
“Investigators from the Fuson County Sheriff’s Department said that the body of Marie Atkins, 22, was discovered in a wooded area near the intersection of Ky. 92 and Fee Road.
“The cause of death has not yet been released but investigators have ruled out foul play.
Atkins, a junior majoring in elementary education at SKU, was the daughter of Crystal Springs Mayor Earl Atkins.
He looked at the date – April 24, 1983.
Jett skipped to the next article, also written by Bud.
Only When I Dream Page 13